[Illustration:
ISABEL OF CASTILE
AFTER A PAINTING IN THE PRADO GALLERY ATTRIBUTED TO MIGUEL ZITTOZ
FROM “TORQUEMADA AND THE SPANISH INQUISITION” BY RAFAEL SABATINI
]
ISABEL OF CASTILE
AND
THE MAKING OF THE SPANISH NATION
1451–1504
BY
IERNE L. PLUNKET
AUTHOR OF “THE FALL OF THE OLD ORDER, 1763–1815”
_Illustrated_
[Illustration: Fleuron]
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
=The Knickerbocker Press=
1915
COPYRIGHT, 1915
BY
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
=The Knickerbocker Press, New York=
FOREWORD
Isabel of Castile is one of the most remarkable, and also one of the
most attractive, figures in Spanish history. Her marriage with Ferdinand
the Wise of Aragon brought about the union of the Spanish nationality,
which had so long been distracted and divided by provincial prejudices
and dynastic feuds. She is the ancestress of the Spanish Hapsburg line.
But she is also important in Spanish history as a wise and energetic
ruler, who rendered invaluable assistance to her husband and to some
extent moulded his policy. Under their government Spain was reduced from
anarchy to order and took her place among the great Powers of Europe.
Isabel is perhaps best known as the patroness of Christopher Columbus
and the unflinching ally of the Spanish Inquisition. But her career
presents many other features of interest. In particular it reveals the
problems which had to be faced by European governments in the critical
period of transition from mediæval to modern forms of national
organization.
H. W. C. D.
BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD,
Dec. 17, 1914.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
CASTILE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY 1
CHAPTER II
THE REIGN OF HENRY IV.: MISGOVERNMENT. 1454–1463 22
CHAPTER III
THE REIGN OF HENRY IV.: CIVIL WAR AND ANARCHY. 1464–1474 51
CHAPTER IV
ACCESSION OF ISABEL: THE PORTUGUESE WAR. 1475–1479 88
CHAPTER V
ORGANIZATION AND REFORM 121
CHAPTER VI
THE MOORISH WAR. 1481–1483 158
CHAPTER VII
THE FALL OF GRANADA: THE MOORISH WAR. 1484–1492 185
CHAPTER VIII
THE INQUISITION 231
CHAPTER IX
THE EXPULSION OF THE JEWS AND MUDEJARES 263
CHAPTER X
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 285
CHAPTER XI
ISABEL AND HER CHILDREN 319
CHAPTER XII
THE ITALIAN WARS. 1494–1504 346
CHAPTER XIII
CASTILIAN LITERATURE 387
APPENDIX I. HOUSE OF TRASTAMARA IN CASTILE AND ARAGON 424
APPENDIX II. PRINCIPAL AUTHORITIES FOR THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
ISABEL OF CASTILE 425
INDEX 427
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
ISABEL OF CASTILE _Frontispiece_
After a painting in the Prado Gallery attributed
to Miguel Zittoz.
From _Torquemada and the Spanish Inquisition_,
by Rafael Sabatini.
HENRY IV 22
From _Boletin de la Real Academia de la
Historia_, vol. lxii.
From a photograph by Hauser and Menet.
ALFONSO V. OF ARAGON 24
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
JUAN PACHECO, MARQUIS OF VILLENA 28
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
ALFONSO, BROTHER OF ISABEL OF CASTILE 66
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
FERDINAND OF ARAGON 90
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
TOLEDO, LA PUERTA DEL SOL 106
From a photograph by Anderson, Rome.
TOLEDO, CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES 110
From a photograph by Anderson, Rome.
SEGOVIA, THE ALCAZAR 114
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
PRINCE JOHN, SON OF FERDINAND AND ISABEL (FUNERAL
EFFIGY) 116
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
JOANNA “LA BELTRANEJA” 118
From Sitges’ _Enrique IV. y la Excelente
Señora_.
SPANISH HALBERDIER, FIFTEENTH CENTURY 162
From _Spanish Arms and Armour_.
Reproduced by courtesy of the author, Mr. A. F.
Calvert.
SPANISH CROSSBOWMAN, FIFTEENTH CENTURY 166
From _Spanish Arms and Armour_.
Reproduced by courtesy of the author, Mr. A. F.
Calvert.
ARMS BELONGING TO BOABDIL 172
From Lafuente’s _Historia General De España_,
vol. vii.
ALHAMBRA, COURT OF LIONS 178
From a photograph by Anderson, Rome.
DOUBLE BREECH-LOADING CANNON, IN BRONZE 192
From _Spanish Arms and Armour_.
Reproduced by courtesy of the author, Mr. A. F.
Calvert.
RONDA, THE TAJO OR CHASM 200
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
MALAGA TO-DAY 214
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
BOABDIL, LAST KING OF GRANADA 222
From Altamira’s _Historia de España_.
ALHAMBRA, PATIO DE L’ALBERCA 226
From a photograph by Anderson, Rome.
THE CARDINAL OF SPAIN, DON PEDRO GONSÁLEZ DE MENDOZA 234
From _Historia de la Villa y Corte de Madrid_,
by Amador de los Rios.
XIMINES DE CISNEROS 242
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
TORQUEMADA 258
After a painting attributed to Miguel Zittoz.
From _Torquemada and the Spanish Inquisition_.
Reproduced by kind permission of the author, Mr.
Rafael Sabatini.
TOMB OF FRANCISCO RAMIREZ (“EL ARTILLERO”) 282
From _Historia de la Villa y Corte de Madrid_,
by Amador de los Rios.
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 286
From _Christopher Columbus_, by Washington
Irving.
A CARAVEL UNDER SAIL 298
From _Christopher Columbus_, by Washington
Irving.
ISABEL OF CASTILE 322
Carved wooden statue from the Cathedral at
Granada.
From _A Queen of Queens_, by Christopher Hare,
published by Messrs. Harper.
TOMB OF FERDINAND AND ISABEL 330
From Nervo’s _Isabelle La Catholique_.
Reproduced by permission of Messrs. Smith, Elder
& Co., publishers of translated edition.
AVILA, TOMB OF PRINCE JOHN, SON OF FERDINAND AND ISABEL 334
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
AVILA, THE CATHEDRAL 336
From a photograph by Hauser and Menet.
ISABEL, QUEEN OF PORTUGAL, ELDEST DAUGHTER OF FERDINAND
AND ISABEL 338
From _Iconografia Española_, by Valentin
Carderera y Solano.
AVILA FROM BEYOND THE CITY WALLS 344
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
A KING-AT-ARMS 364
From _Spanish Arms and Armour_.
Reproduced by courtesy of the author, Mr. A. F.
Calvert.
SPANISH MAN-AT-ARMS, FIFTEENTH CENTURY 368
From _Spanish Arms and Armour_.
Reproduced by courtesy of the author, Mr. A. F.
Calvert.
TILTING ARMOUR OF PHILIP THE FAIR 376
From _Spanish Arms and Armour_.
Reproduced by courtesy of the author, Mr. A. F.
Calvert.
JOANNA “THE MAD,” DAUGHTER OF QUEEN ISABEL 380
From _Historia de la Villa y Corte de Madrid_,
by Amador de los Rios.
CODICIL TO ISABEL’s WILL, WITH HER SIGNATURE 384
From Lafuente’s _Historia General De España_,
vol. vii.
FERDINAND OF ARAGON 388
Carved wooden statue from the Cathedral at
Malaga.
GRANADA CATHEDRAL, ROYAL CHAPEL, TOMB OF FERDINAND AND
ISABEL 392
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
BURGOS CATHEDRAL 396
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
COINS, CATHOLIC KINGS 402
From Lafuente’s _Historia General De España_,
vol. vii.
COINS, CATHOLIC KINGS 404
From Lafuente’s _Historia General De España_,
vol. vii.
COINS, CATHOLIC KINGS 406
From Lafuente’s _Historia General De España_,
vol. vii.
COINS, FERDINAND 408
From Lafuente’s _Historia General De España_,
vol. vii.
FAÇADE OF SAN PABLO AT VALLADOLID 420
From a photograph by Lacoste, Madrid.
MAP AT END
ISABEL OF CASTILE
CHAPTER I
CASTILE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY
There are some characters in history, whose reputation for heroism is
beyond reproach in the eyes of the general public. There are others,
however, whose claims to glory are ardently contested by posterity, and
none more than Isabel of Castile, in whose case ordinary differences of
opinion have been fanned by that most uncompromising of all foes to a
fair estimate, religious prejudice. Thus the Catholic, while deploring
the extreme severity of the methods employed for the suppression of
heresy, would yet look on her championship of the Catholic Faith as her
chief claim to the admiration of mankind. The Protestant on the other
hand, while acknowledging the glories of the Conquest of Granada and the
Discovery of the New World, would weigh them light in the balance
against the fires and tortures of the Inquisition and the ruthless
expulsion of the Jews.
One solution of the problem has been to make the unfortunate Ferdinand
the scapegoat of his Queen’s misdeeds. Whatever tends to the glory of
Spain, in that, if not the originator, she is at least the partner and
moving spirit. When acts of fanaticism hold the field, they are the
result of Ferdinand’s material ambitions or the religious fervour of her
confessors; Isabel’s ordinarily independent and clear-sighted mind being
reduced for the sake of her reputation to a condition of credulous
servility.
Such a view has missed the consistency of real life. It is probably
responsible for the exactly opposite summary of another critic, who
denies Isabel’s superiority to her husband in anything but hypocrisy and
the ability to make her lies more convincing. He even fails to admit
that, this being granted, her capacities in one direction at least must
have been phenomenal, since Ferdinand was the acknowledged liar of his
day _par excellence_.
Faced by the witness of the Queen’s undoubted popularity, he sweeps it
away with a tribute to Spanish manhood: “The praise bestowed on the
character of Isabel is, to no small amount, due to the chivalrous
character of the Spaniards, who never forgot that the Queen was a lady.”
Such an assumption must be banished, along with Isabel’s weak-mindedness
on religious matters, to the realms of historical fiction. The very
Castilians who extol her glory and merit do not hesitate to draw
attention in bald terms to her sister-in-law’s frailties. Indeed a
slight perusal of Cervantes’ famous novel, embodying so much of the
habits and outlook of Spain at a slightly later date will show it was
rather the fashion to praise a woman for her beauty than to credit her
with mental or moral qualities of any strength.
The Catholic Queen, like other individuals of either sex, must stand or
fall by the witness of her own actions and speech; and these seen in the
light of contemporary history will only confirm the tradition of her
heroism, which the intervening centuries have tended to blur. The odium
that sometimes attaches to her name is largely due to the translation of
Spanish ideals and conditions of life in the Middle Ages into the terms
that rule the conduct of the twentieth century.
“Quien dice España dice todo,” says the old proverb,—“He who says Spain
has said everything.”
This arrogance is typical of the self-centred, highly strung race, that
had been bred by eight centuries of war against the Infidel. The other
nations of Western Europe might have their occasional religious
difficulties; but, in the days before Luther and Calvin were born, none
to the same extent as Spain were faced by the problem of life in daily
contact with the unpardonable crime of heresy, in this case the more
insidious that it was often masked by outward observance of rule and
ritual.
The greater part of the modern world would dismiss the matter with a
shrug of its shoulders and the comfortable theory that truth, being
eternal, can take care of itself; but this freedom of outlook was yet to
be won on the battlefields of the Renaissance and in the religious wars
of the sixteenth century. It would be an anachronism to look for it in
Spain at a time when the influence of the new birth of thought and
culture had extended no further than an imitation of Italian poets.
Isabel’s bigotry is an inheritance she shared with the greater part of
her race in her own day, the logical sequence of her belief in the
exclusive value of the divine in man’s nature, as against any claims of
his human body. If she pursued her object, the salvation of souls, with
a relentless cruelty, from which we turn away to-day in sick disgust, we
must remember that Spain for the most part looked on unmoved. Where
opposition was shown, as in her husband’s kingdom of Aragon, it was
rather the spirit of independence than of mercy that raised its head.
Indeed the religious persecution was in no way disproportionate to the
severity of the criminal procedure of the reign, as will be seen by a
glance at the usual sentences passed on those convicted of any crime.
The least with which a thief could hope to escape from his judges was
the loss of a limb, but the more likely fate was to be placed with his
back to a tree, and there, after a hasty confession of his sins, shot or
burnt.
Many of Queen Isabel’s contemporaries remark her intolerance of crime
and disorder, and a few of the younger generation who had grown to
manhood in the atmosphere of peace she had established, condemn her
justice as excessive. By modern standards it is undoubtedly barbarous;
but long centuries of anarchy had bred a spirit of lust and brutality
little above the barbarian level, and only drastic measures could hope
to cure so deep-rooted an evil. Isabel herself, throughout her
childhood, had been a forced witness of her brother’s policy of
“sprinkling rose-water on rebellion” instead of employing the surgeon’s
knife; and her strength of character despised the weakness, that under
the pretext of humanity made life impossible for nine-tenths of the
population.
It is her great achievement that she raised the crown, the mediæval
symbol of national justice, from the political squalor into which
seventy years of mingled misfortune and incapacity had thrown it, and
that she set it on a pedestal so lofty, that even the haughtiest
Castilian need not be ashamed to bow the knee in reverence. By this
substitution of a strong government for a weak, of impartiality for
favouritism, she secured peace at home and thus laid a firm foundation
for Ferdinand’s ambitious foreign policy, and the establishment of Spain
as the first nation in Europe.
It is perhaps difficult to apportion exactly the respective shares of
Isabel and her husband in the administrative measures of their reign;
for their unanimity of aim and action was in keeping with their motto
_tanto monta_,—“the one as much as the other.” Yet in this connection it
is necessary to realize the contrast between the two kingdoms. Aragon,
with its three divisions of Aragon proper, Valencia, and the
Principality of Catalonia, measured in all scarcely a quarter of the
territory of its western neighbour. Moreover the spirit of the people
and the democratic character of its laws rendered it a soil peculiarly
ill-suited for the growth of the royal prerogative. Thus, in spite of
the sovereigns’ best endeavours, it stubbornly withstood their
centralizing policy, and the main burden of taxation and governmental
measures fell on Castile. The latter, “the corona” or “big crown,” in
contradistinction to the “coronilla” or “little crown” of Aragon,
continued throughout the Queen’s lifetime to look on her husband as more
or less of a foreigner; and all the many documents signed “Yo, El Rey”
could not weigh with a true Castilian against Isabel’s single “Yo, La
Reina.” It is she, who, when “Los Reyes” are not mentioned together, is
hailed to-day in Spain as the chief representative of national grandeur,
just as “castellano,” the speech of the larger kingdom, has become
synonymous with our term “Spanish.”
The word “Castile” itself conveys to an imaginative mind a picture of
that mediæval land of castles, whose ramparts were not only a defence
against the Moors but also the bulwark of a turbulent nobility. In vain
the Crown had striven to suppress its over-powerful subjects. The
perpetual crusade upon the southern border proved too alluring a
recruiting-ground for the vices of feudalism; and many a mail-clad count
led out to battle a larger following of warriors than the sovereign to
whom he nominally owed obedience.
So long as the crusade continued, rulers of Castile could not attempt to
disband the feudal levies on which their fortune depended; and each
acquisition of Moorish territory was followed by fresh distributions of
lands amongst the conquering troops. Sometimes these grants carried with
them complete fiscal and judicial control of the district in question,
at others merely a yearly revenue; but, whatever the tenure, the new
owner and his descendants were certain to take advantage of royal
embarrassments and national disorder to press their claims to the
farthest limit. A few communities, _behetrias_, succeeded in obtaining
the privilege of choosing their own over-lord with the more doubtful
corollary of changing him as often as they liked, a process fruitful of
quarrels which not unnaturally resulted in their gradual absorption by
more settled neighbours.
Since the practice of primogeniture was common in Castile and lands were
inalienable, large estates were rapidly built up, whose owners, unable
to rule all their property directly, would sublet some of their towns
and strongholds to other nobles and knights in return for certain
services. These dependencies, or _latifundia_, yielded ultimate
obedience not to the King but to the over-lord from whom their commander
had received them. On one occasion Alvaro de Luna, the favourite
minister of John II., appeared before the castle of Trujillo and
demanded its surrender in his master’s name. To this the “Alcayde,” or
Governor, replied that he owed allegiance to the King’s uncle, John of
Aragon, and would open the gates to none else: an answer typical of the
days when aristocratic independence ran riot in Castile.
A great territorial magnate could also renounce the obedience he owed to
his sovereign by the simple method of sending a messenger who should, in
the King’s presence, make the following declaration: “Señor, on behalf
of ... I kiss your hand and inform you that henceforth he is no more
your vassal.”
The weakness of the Castilian Crown was further aggravated in the
fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries by disputed successions and
long minorities; the nobles using the confusion these engendered to
wring concessions from the rival claimants, or to seize them from
inexperienced child rulers.
“A breastplate would have served him better!” exclaimed the Count of
Benavente, when at the beginning of Queen Isabel’s reign he heard of the
death of some man bearing a royal safe-conduct.
“Do you wish then that there was no King in Castile?” asked the Queen
indignantly; to which the Count replied cheerfully: “Not so! I would
there were many, for then I should be one of them.”
His words are the expression of the aristocratic ideal of life in his
own day. It was perhaps most nearly realized in the case of the Grand
Masterships of the three great Military Orders of Santiago, Calatrava,
and Alcantara. These Orders had been called into existence by the
crusade; but their original purpose was gradually obscured by the wealth
and influence that made them the resort of the ambitious rather than of
the enthusiast. Like the Monastic Orders, their members were bound by
vows: obedience, community of property, strict conjugal fidelity,
sometimes celibacy; but dispensations could be bought, and the gains to
be reaped more than compensated for any theoretical austerities or
submission.
The main canon of their creed, war against the Infidel, was readily
accepted by every aspirant knight; the only drawback being that his
inborn love of fighting led him to take part as well in whatever other
kind of war happened to dawn on the horizon, no matter if it were
against his own sovereign. How formidable this would prove for the
sovereign we can imagine when we learn that in the fifteenth century the
combined revenues of the Orders amounted to something like 145,000
ducats,[1] while the Master of Santiago could call into the field a
force of four hundred fully-armed cavaliers and one thousand lances. In
addition he possessed the patronage of numerous “commanderies,” rich
military posts that brought with them the rents of subject towns and
villages, and that were eagerly sought by the highest in the land.
Footnote 1:
“The monetary unit of Castile was the ‘maravedi,’ anciently a gold
coin of value; but, in the fifteenth century, diminished to a fraction
of its former estimation.”—Lea, _History of Spanish Inquisition_, vol.
i., Appendix III.
The ducat would be worth about 374 maravedis, or about 8_s._ 9_d._ in
English money.
Extreme power and privilege are often their own undoing; and from the
fruits of its triumph the Castilian aristocracy was to reap a bitter
harvest. Had the fight with the Crown been more strenuous and the
victory less certain, the _ricos-hombres_ or great men of the land,
might have learned to combine if not with other classes at least amongst
themselves; but the independence they had gained so easily they placed
in jeopardy by individual selfishness and mutual distrust. It has been
said with truth that it was almost impossible to persuade the mediæval
Castilian noble to act with his fellows. Pride, ambition, the courage
that vaunts itself in duels, the revenge that lurks, dagger-drawn, in
back streets or lonely roads: these were the source of constant feuds
and internecine warfare, incapable of a final settlement save by the
pressure of some outside force.
Nor could the noble, who distrusted the members of his own class, rely
in times of danger on the co-operation of his humbler neighbours.
Believing that war was the profession of the gentleman, he despised the
burgher, the artisan, and the farmer. Like the French “seigneur” he had
won freedom from direct taxation as the privilege of his Order, and thus
lost touch completely with the _pecheros_ or “taxable classes.” He had
appropriated the majority of the high-sounding offices of state, the
Grand Constable, the Admiral of Castile, and so forth; but he valued
them from the wealth or honour they conveyed, not from any sense of
responsibility. The very fact that such offices had tended to become
hereditary had done much to destroy their official character. An
“Enriquez” was Admiral of Castile, not on account of his seamanship, nor
even on the system of the modern English Cabinet because of a certain
“all-round” ability to deal with public business, but because his father
and grandfather had held the post before him. The _ricos-hombres_ might,
from personal motives, defy the government or nullify its measures; but
in placing themselves above the law they had lost the incentive to
control legislation. A world of experience, or rather a lack of it,
separated them from those below, to whom edicts and ordinances were a
matter of daily concern.
The Castilian Church was also in a sense above the law; for the clergy
were exempt from ordinary taxation, paying to the Crown instead a small
portion of their tithes. Like the nobles they could neither be
imprisoned for debt nor suffer torture; while legally they came under
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and were subject only to its penalties and
censures. Archbishops, bishops, and abbots, were for the most part
younger sons of wealthy nobles and shared the outlook and ambitions of
their class. The Castilian prelate of the early fifteenth century found
it as natural to don his suit of mail and draw his sword as to celebrate
Mass or hear confessions. It would not be dislike of shedding blood nor
a faint heart that would distinguish him from laymen on the battlefield,
but the surcoat embroidered with a cross, that he wore in deference to
his profession.
The worldly character of the higher ranks of the clergy had permeated
also to the lower; and vice, ignorance, and careless levity sapped the
influence of the ordinary parish priest and corrupted the monasteries
and convents. Here and there were signs of an awakening, but for the
most part the spiritual conscience of the Castilian Church lay dormant.
Its sense of nationality on the other hand was strong; that is to say if
dislike of foreign interference and strong racial prejudice deserve such
a definition. Partly from very worldliness, local and provincial
interests tended to predominate over any claims of a universal Church;
and submission to Rome was interpreted with a jealous regard to private
ambitions. The members of the episcopate, concerned in the civil wars of
Henry IV.’s reign, looked on with cool indifference when a papal legate,
vainly seeking to arbitrate between the armies on the eve of a battle,
was forced to save his life by flight. Similarly, the Archbishop of
Toledo, Primate of Castile, thought little of throwing into a dungeon
the candidate who, armed with letters of appointment from Rome, had
dared to dispute a rich living in the diocese with his own nominee. The
Pope was a convenient “King Log”; but his subjects had not the least
wish for him to develop the authority of a “King Stork.”
The Castilian Church also displayed her national prejudice, as we shall
see later, in her hatred and suspicion of the alien races that formed
such a large element of the Spanish population. These had sunk their
roots deep in the soil during the centuries of Moorish conquest when,
from behind the barrier of the Asturian mountains in the far north-west,
the pure Castilian alone had been able to beat back the advancing waves
of Mahometanism. As he at length descended from his refuge, where the
sword or the hunting-spear had been his sole means of livelihood, he
might profess to despise the believers in Allah, from whom he wrested
back the land of his fathers, but in practice he was glad enough to
accept them as a subject race. The Moorish warriors, who fell on the
battlefield or retreated southwards before their foes, left in Christian
territory a large residue of the more peaceful Arabs and Berbers,
willing to till the fields, work at the looms, and fulfil all those
other tasks of civilized national life that the Castilian was inclined
to imagine degrading to his own dignity. Left behind also were colonies
of prosperous Jews, whose ancestors, hounded from every Christian court,
had found a home under the tolerant rule of the caliphs of Cordova.
Agriculture, industry, and commerce thus became stamped, unfortunately
for Spain, with the taint of subjection. Not that the Castilian took no
share as the years passed in the economic life of his country; for the
legislation of the fifteenth century shows the middle and lower classes
busily engaged in occupations such as cattle-breeding, sheep-farming,
and mining; and, more especially in the south, of fruit-growing, and the
production of silk, wine, and oil. The basis of a progressive national
life was there; but perpetual war against the Moors and internal
discord, combined with racial prejudice against the industrious alien,
gave to the profession of arms a wholly disproportionate value.
Many of the towns were in their origin border outposts; and their
massive towers, fortified churches, and thick walls, with the suburbs
huddling close against them for protection, marked the enveloping
atmosphere of danger. Since it had been difficult at first to attract
the industrial classes to such surroundings, rulers of Castile had been
driven to grant _fueros_ or charters, to the inhabitants embodying
numerous privileges and a large measure of self-government. Then the
time of danger passed; the Castilian boundary pushed farther south, and
other fortified towns were needed to defend it; but the citizens of the
old outposts clung jealously to the _fueros_ of their fathers and defied
either royal or seignorial control.
“Ce sont de veritables petits états,” says Mariéjol, speaking of the
Castilian municipalities in mediæval days; but the description that
implies peculiar powers shadows forth also peculiar difficulties. The
city that would keep its independence would have to struggle continually
against the encroachments both of the Crown and of neighbouring
territorial lords. It must for this purpose maintain its own militia,
and, most arduous of all, watch carefully lest it should fall into
subjection to its very defenders. Not a few of the municipal councils
came in time to be dominated by a class of “knights,” or nobles of
secondary rank, whose quarrels and feuds endangered industry and filled
the streets with bloodshed.
The principal civic official was the “regidor”; but the Crown had by the
early fifteenth century succeeded in introducing in many cases a
representative, the “corregidor,” whose business it was to look after
royal interests. His presence was naturally resented by the more
influential citizens and, where he dealt corruptly with the people,
disliked by all; but an honest corregidor, who was unconnected with
local families and therefore without interest in the local feuds, and
who had no axe of his own to grind, was a Godsent help to the poorer
classes.
Besides appointing corregidors, the Crown had also begun to influence
the municipalities in another way, through a gradually increasing
control of the “Cortes,” or national parliament of Castile. This body
consisted of three “Estates”; the nobles, whether _ricos-hombres_ or
_hidalgos_ of lesser grade; ecclesiastics; and the Third Estate, or
“Commons.” On an occasion of outward or obvious importance, when a
succession or a Council of Regency were under dispute, or if an oath of
homage to a new sovereign or the confirmation of some unprecedented act
were required; all three “Estates” would meet together at whatever town
the King happened to be staying. Such was a “General Cortes.”
An ordinary Cortes was of a very different character; for, since its
business mainly concerned taxation, only the Commons, or “taxable”
element of the population was in the habit of attending. In the early
days of Castilian history the number of places represented was
unlimited; but a right that in the disordered state of the country was
both expensive and tiresome, if not actually dangerous, was regarded as
a burden by most of the municipalities. By the fifteenth century only
seventeen cities and towns sent members to the Cortes. These were:
Toledo, Burgos, Seville, Cordova, Murcia, Leon, Segovia, Avila,
Salamanca, Zamora, Cuenca, Jaen, Valladolid, Madrid, Toro, Soria, and
Guadalajara, while Granada was added after her conquest in 1492.
The “Procuradores,” or representatives, were in theory free to act at
their own discretion; but in practice they went tied by the instructions
of their fellow-citizens. Nor had they much scope for independence in
the Cortes itself; for though they might and did air their grievances
and press for reform, redress rested with the Crown and did not precede
but follow the assent to taxation. All legislative power was in fact
invested in the King; who might reject, amend, or accept suggestions as
he thought fit.
“We hold that the matter of your petition is to our service.” “We
command that it shall take effect.” Such phrases expressed sovereignty
in a gracious mood, and all were satisfied; while the absence of royal
sanction sent the _procurador_ back to his city, his efforts wasted. He
could, of course, on the next occasion that the King, in need of money,
summoned his deputies to grant it, refuse the supply; but in the
meantime three more years might have elapsed and conditions and needs
would have altered. Moreover a system of bribes and flattery went far to
bring the Commons into line with the royal will; while the shortsighted
complaints of some of the municipalities at the expense of maintaining
their representatives paved the way for the Crown to accept the burden,
thereby establishing an effective control over those who became
practically its nominees.
That the towns missed the future significance of this change is hardly
surprising. The civil wars that devastated Castile had taught the people
that their most dangerous enemies were not their kings but the turbulent
aristocracy; and they often looked to the former as allies against a
common foe. In the same way the more patriotic of the nobles and
ecclesiastics saw in the building up of the royal power the only hope of
carrying the crusade against the Moors to a successful conclusion, or of
establishing peace at home. At this critical moment in the history of
Castile, national progress depended on royal dominance; and it was Queen
Isabel who by establishing the one made possible the other.